Coinicidental Meeting After a Sad Event
by devbronte5
Summary: Margaret, unable to bear the burdens at home, sets off for a walk to talk freely with Bessie. However, something happens & this is a little "what if" situation that I really wanted to happen next, if I wrote the scene.
1. Chapter 1

Here is my first fan fiction story. I am not a great writer, but I have been in love with this series for a millennium it feels like & I have always wanted more "coincidental" meetings between Margaret & John. This is one way, which I think satisfies my wish. Please review...I would greatly appreciate it. Thanks and I hope you enjoy it. Although I dearly wish to have created North & South, I did not. North & South belongs to the wonderful Elizabeth Gaskell. However, certain events, sayings, actions, etc., that are not in Gaskell's publication belong to me. I hope that you will enjoy this little snippet.

Summary: This story begins after Mr. Thornton has cancelled his session with Mr. Hale, and Margaret tells Mr. Hale she has written to Fred about their mother. Margaret, unable to bear the claustrophobia of the burdens at home, sets off for a walk to talk freely with Bessie Higgins, the only friend she can speak to without hesitation. However, something happens and this is a little "what if" situation that I really wanted to happen next. Told in Margaret's point of view.

These conversations with my father, at least now, always make me feel so uneasy. When I was a child, when I was in Helstone, I never felt like this. Never. Father always brought comfort and understanding, and a sense of satisfaction. We have always been close, always spoken our minds, and were never reserved as many other fathers and daughters were. However, I do not feel this way anymore with him. He has remained the same, while I have changed. My father, I have come to realize, is still living in a fantastical reality, where everything will work itself out, no matter the situation. He knows that it is a grave situation that he has placed his family in, yet he does not feel uneasy about this drastic action. And I would not wish that on him. He uprooted us, suddenly, without a clear understanding of why at the time and of course, he knows that this action has not been kind on our family, with Mother becoming ill, little remarks from Dixon, and the change in our economic situation. I see that now he understands the effects of his change, but still, he lives as though it will all be fine. But I no longer hold onto the hope that it will all be fine, that it will all work out. I just have the desire that maybe the very little luck might be on our side for once, and that there will be a content ending to all of this. Mother will become well, Father will find that his students, and many more will pay for tutoring, that Fred will arrive safely in Milton, and from there will earn his rightful freedom and justice. I know that my father loves me dearly, but it is hard to remain the ever-constant rock for him and Mother. I am living in the current reality, not the one Father is in or wants, but in this unpleasant, claustrophobic, and dark reality.

After speaking with Father about Fred and the letter, I find it hard to concentrate on the daily chores, which I surround myself in. I must do something productive; keep my mind from wandering to the constant threat that looms over home. Fred is coming, I know he will, but even ironing the curtains with Dixon cannot keep my mind from wandering to the tragic "what ifs" that could occur. I feel my anxieties breaking through my exterior, and suddenly have this desperate urge to speak, yell even, at the top of my lungs to anyone that will listen.

Dramatically, I stop ironing the curtains, telling Dixon that I must rest. Unable to remain standing still, doing the mundane work that I was caught up in, I feel as though I was about to suddenly collapse and cry. I must remain strong, I must!

_"Miss Margaret, are you alright?,"_ Dixon's concerning voice enters my ears, but I hardly register to speak before escaping, practically running out of the kitchen.

I run and run, until reaching the stairs, taking two steps at a time. It is so unlike a lady to do so, but I cannot bother with propriety. The need to lay my head down before dropping to the floor wins over propriety. I hear Dixon speaking my name with concern, her heavy steps following out of the kitchen to the stairs, stopping at the bottom. However, I cannot stop myself from running. I cannot stop to explain what has just occurred without showing what I wish to hide: my true sadness and weakness. I must find privacy now. The urgency to be locked away, to hide the insecurities and sadness and depression of the ruins of everything I love dearest is suddenly daunting and I know that privacy is the only relief before they cave in on me. My shoulders are like weak wooden boards, close to caving in, trying to hold heavy and bulky aspects and pains of life. I must shed this hard and strong exterior because now I know that my soft and sunken insides must spill out.

Finally, for what seems like miles of running, I reach my bedroom door, opening and closing it so swiftly that my dress is suddenly caught in the door. Anger and irritation seep through my pale, almost white mouth as a growl escapes my quivering lips. I release my dress from its captor and fling my whole being onto the bed, face forward onto a pillow, finally releasing all of the frustration, the sadness, the anger. I have never before crying like this. Tears flow through my eyes, like a gushing spring unable to be held back any longer. My stomach turns inwardly at the heavy flow of emotion. Everything in my body aches, and yet there is no relief of pain, even while crying. My breath is ragged and edges itself from my lungs with pain, trying to gain footing and release itself. Unable to breathe in a full or comforting breath since the beginning, I cannot seem to catch my breath and this complication only makes me cry even harder and louder. I feel as though I could die, even knowing how overdramatic this thought is, I cannot seem to stop it. Crying my hardest, hardly breathing, I cannot escape the idea that if I were to suddenly die of suffocation or heart break, finally, endlessly, I could finally breathe without the weight of the world on my being. I would feel ease. But then I think of what my leaving would do to my Father, my Mother, and Fred, even Dixon, and then I begin to cry even harder. I could never leave them, why am I being so overly dramatic? I have no right!

I cry and cry until finally I come back to reality from my pity-party. Slowly, I raise my head, then my arms little by little push up my body, until finally I am sitting on the edge of my bed, with tiny specks of water still running over my tomato-red cheeks. I begin to grasp myself, breathing slowly in and out, heaving my chest up and down, wishing that this corset were not pushing into me. Lord, I hate corsets. Why on Earth is it necessary to wear something that? Personally, I see is another way to trap women in. Would a man wear a corset? Of course not! However there are those men who do, but even then they are considered to be absolutely ridiculous, not only to men in society, but also women. Wait, why am I rambling on, thinking of corsets? I have just been childishly crying my eyes out, considering my death and the ease of it, and now I am thinking about corsets? This thought has me giggling a little, although not full heartedly. I realize that the show of strength and sensibleness must go on. I stand up, although fearing of my knees weaknesses, I do it slowing and with the assistance the corner of my desk. Seeing a "_Dear Edith_" on the script, I resolved myself to finishing the letter. Perhaps writing my thoughts to her will bring me at least some comfort and satisfaction. Ever cautious, I find my footing to walk to the chair, pulling it carefully out to sit upon. I sink down rapidly. My knees must still be feeling the excess of emotion. Grabbing my pen, I begin:

_"I hope that you are well, and that everything on Harley Street remains as fashionable and pleasant as ever. I miss Sholto dearly, as well as Captain Lenox and Aunt Shaw. Please give them my best, and tell Aunt Shaw that I should write to her soon. Oh Edith, I cannot begin to tell you how alone I feel. Everything is crushing my being, and yet I can find no relief."_

I suddenly stop the flow of my pen. I cannot tell Edith of my troubles, she would never understand. Yes, we are cousins, and even deeper friends, but I cannot show her my weakness or my strong resolve deteriorating. She could not bear it and I could not bear her pity or sadness. I slowly crumple the letter until it is a small ball of white. Looking down, I see only the letters "_bes_" peeking through the crumpled page and suddenly think of Bessie. Yes, I must go and see Bessie! She will understand, she will be there to listen and advise. Quickly, I get up from the chair, knocking it over on the ground roughly. Not caring, I open my door and run downstairs. Grabbing my hat and coat, I hardly have time to put them on when I run into Father.

"_Oh Margaret, dear, I'm ever so sorry. I did not see you before we suddenly collided," _he chuckled, more to himself than to her._ " Are you alright? Are you going somewhere? Surely it is too late to pay a call to anyone. Perhaps..."_

But before he could finish, I kissed his cheek, and told him that I would be back soon. I must go and see Bessie. He was taken aback but he could not say anything more. He smiled and nodded. I left, practically sprinting down the street, paying no attention to the hundred eyes following me.

_**(So this is the first chapter. I know that nothing really occurs here, but I feel it's a foundation or a beginning step for what will. I hope that I have not created a scene too much out of character for Margaret or the rest of the characters. I will post more later, perhaps even this week! If you wish, of course. Please review, and be kind. I greatly appreciate it! Thanks.)**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello Everyone! I'm sorry about the false alerts! My computer would not upload this so it just took a little while to figure that out. First of all, thank you to all who reviewed or added this story to their alerts. I really appreciate it! I hope that this chapter will not disappoint. I have been absent for much longer than I wished. Sorry about that. But I will try to make up for it. So continuing on with the story, this is from John Thornton's point of view. Again, although I dearly wish to have created North & South, I did not. North & South belongs to the wonderful Elizabeth Gaskell. However, certain events, sayings, actions, etc., that are not in Gaskell's publication belong to me. Let me know what you think of this piece. Much appreciation. **

It seemed an unpleasantly grey day today. But, perhaps, that was just an unconscious observation my mind was making for what I felt at that moment. Since the strike, my days have been uncommonly black, but today was different. Today was grey because I saw her. She grazed right past me, and selfish as I am, I thought she would stop to at least nod or say a polite greeting. Perhaps comment on the weather. But I knew that was a silly hope, for we were long past common practice. Of course I am being somewhat of a child; she was on the other side of the street, not even noticing of the remains of the crowd that day, so why would she notice an acquaintance. I had missed my session with her father, and I felt guilty. Of course I should let the emotions I felt for her and the trials and events of these emotions overcome my friendships. It should not influence my friendship with Mr. Hale, but I let it. I felt somewhat ashamed, and in an instant I wanted to apologize to at least one Hale. But before I could step off the curb, I was greeted by someone very different.

_"Mr. Thornton! How good it is to see you. I did not think you had time in the day to beat your feet on the gravel instead of the mill floor, what with the aftermath of the strike,"_ chuckled Mr. Latimer. This instantly made me remember how much I disliked Hugh Latimer. He was never more than blunt, if somewhat politely blunt and within the pleasantries of propriety, in what he thought of you. Clearly he thought he should tell me what I should be doing. He was dressed to the nines in one of hundreds of tasteful suits he owned. He always surprised me in his ability to continue on in his fanciful attire at a time like this, with many so poor or in dire struggle to keep their heads above water.

_"Mr. Latimer, it is nice to see you, sir,"_ I said with an uncommonly tight smile. Must keep up politeness I thought to myself. _"And, Miss. Latimer. It's a pleasure seeing you again. I hope you are doing well on this cold day."_

_"Very well, Mr. Thornton. Thank you for your concern. I have just been speaking with Father that we are indeed past due on having you over for dinner. And you're mother, of course,"_ Miss. Latimer said shyly. Shy she is, yes, but apparently not shy enough to keep her eyes in check. Even her father noticed the way she ran her eyes over my person.

Instantly curious, a bit embarrassed for both of us she was caught, I smirked and flirted, _"Why, I believe you are correct Miss. Latimer. I know my mother will look forward to your invitation, as will I."_ I knew that Anne Latimer had an attachment and an extreme wish to make our acquaintance much more than it had been since she got back from schooling. However flirtatious I was, or she was, it would never change. I could never be in love, let alone marry her. She was quiet, shy, and missing the one thing I needed. She was not Margaret. As I thought about my relationship with Anne and the conclusion of never welcoming anything more than friendship from her, her father was most definitely looking closely at me. I could feel his stare as I still looked into Miss. Latimer's eyes, with a slightly pained smile on my face. Thankfully, I was saved from a rash speech from Latimer about my line of sight.

_"Latimer! Thornton! How good to see you both! Oh and the pretty Miss. Anne!" _came the cheerful voice of Adam Bell. He strolled over to us, coming from the direction where Margaret was heading. I wonder if he saw her. Perhaps I could ask...

_"Ah, Mr. Bell. How very nice to see you. How long have you been back from Oxford? I did not know you would return so soon"_ said Mr. Latimer, thankfully and hopefully forgetting what he saw.

_"Well, you know business calls at the most inopportune times, Hugh"_ Bell stated wistfully. _"But it is not all business I am glad to relate. No, I am also here to check in on the Hale family. I missed my friend dearly, not to mention my beautiful goddaughter,"_ at this last part he looked directly into my eyes, with a star-bright twinkle in his eyes. Could he read my reaction at the mention of Margaret? Could he know something that many missed? I smiled a little in return, but didn't let it become defined. From the corner of my eye, I could see Miss. Latimer frown a little. Did she know too? Was I that daft in not keeping my attractions in check? Was I a flaunter of my affections for Miss. Hale without even knowing it?

_"That is so generous of you Adam. The Hales seem to be a good and kind family, and of course your friendship with them makes them all the more important,"_ said the ever socio-conscious Latimer. I frowned a little at this, as did Mr. Bell, but none sought to correct him. _"Well, Anne and I must continue on. For we already late in calling on the Watsons. Come my dear"_ he stated, practically pushing Miss. Latimer ahead of him. She looked at me with a small smile, but her eyes said so much more._"I never understood why us fathers must pay so much for schooling, if we have to pay double for a wedding afterwards,"_ he chuckled gazing at Bell, and then giving a poignant look in my direction, not noticing his daughter's similar look directed towards me this time. It made me instantly cautious. Surely he didn't think I wanted to marry Anne.

I could feel Bell's eyes on me; feel him scrutinizing my reactions to what Latimer just stated. I turned to him, clearly not needing to hide anything anymore. But when I turned, Bell had the angriest and most disappointing look about him. I posed a question with my eyes. Why was he so angry?

_"So, Thornton, I believe we should talk,"_ he said rather seriously, especially serious for Adam Bell. _"My friend says that you have not been to visit him lately. May I ask why?"_

This took me completely by shock, but being a firm master, I schooled my face to show indifference.

_"I have been very busy, sir. I have not been able to make time for visits,"_ I said just as sternly. Never removing my death-stare from his eyes. Where was this coming from?

He looked me over, very curiously, never stopping his eyes from shifting across my face.

_"Well, Thornton, perhaps you will make more time in the future. I know Hale wishes to see one of his close friends. And not to mention, I am sure Margaret can do with some outside company other than her parents, or the ever militaristic Dixon,"_ he said with a developing smile.

As soon as her name was mentioned, my face changed from stern look to a longing one. God, why did she make me soft!

_"Indeed, Bell, I will make more time in the future. Speaking of Miss. Hale, I just saw her walking in that direction. Did you...possibly...speak with her?"_ I asked cautiously. He gave me a feigned surprised look. He was fooling no one about his ignorance.

He smiled a little, trying to hide it with a brush of his hand to his head, and said rather innocently, _"Well, Mr. Thornton, you are very observant! Yes I did speak with my goddaughter. She was on her way to visit friends; I believe she said Bethey, or Becky."_

_"Oh, Bessie. Bessie Higgins,"_ I corrected him.

He smiled at my statement. _"I only know of this because she is one of my workers...at the mill,"_ I stated matter of fact.

_"Yes, well, I tried to persuade her to let me escort her home, seeing as it is getting to a late hour. But she is of a strong mind and would not have any of it. I did not feel comforted with her walking by herself so late in the day, but I am not her father, nor her beloved, so I cannot have my say in her activities."_ He must have noticed my head crack up at the word beloved. He smiled much more open now.

Had he asked Margaret to marry him too? No he couldn't. He was too old for her! He was her godfather for heaven's sake. _No, John, these things do happen_, my conscience told me. But it could not be true. Hale had never hinted to an attachment between his friend and his daughter. And certainly Margaret had never shown more than fatherly interest in Bell.

_"Well Mr. Bell, I feel your concerns are just. Indeed she should not be walking alone at such an hour and into the Higgins' neighborhood. Do you not think you should go after her? Perhaps tell her that her father requested her to come back home?"_ I could not believe my words that showed my clear concern for her well being! She was not my responsibility, nor was she my sister...or my wife. That last part broke another piece of my heart off. And yet I formed this question as though I was someone important in her life and that she was someone important and dear in my life. Of course I had hoped to be more than an acquaintance once upon a moment, and although I was not accepted, I still found myself caring deeply for her. But still, Mr. Bell didn't know the particulars so he would only see me as an over interested friend of her fathers, right? Or had I betrayed myself at that moment? But, no matter, someone should make sure she arrived home harmless...right?

_"Exactly my point Thornton. But we both know how independent Miss Hale can be, so we must not intervene or else we shall feel the effects of her anger indeed,"_ Bell stated matter of factly. Noticing my mind working, trying to figure out what I should do, for I could not let Margaret just gallivant across the city without any protection, Bell interrupted my thoughts. _"You know Thornton, perhaps if you are on your way somewhere in that direction, you could possibly see that Miss. Hale is alright. I mean, as a friend of her fathers, it would be a generous act which would be in your right...as a friend of her fathers, of course" _he repeated. Shyly he added, _"And then I will go to the Hales home, as I am on my way for dinner, and you could happen by with Miss Hale, earning your stoic duty of Margaret's safety a place at the dinner table. But it is all in your will, my boy"_.

Oh Adam Bell! How sly his words were. I did not think him to be such an...encourager. A very impressive and capable encourager!

_"Well Mr. Bell, as much as it is in my duty to see her home safely...as a friend of her fathers...I do not promise she will allow me to accompany her to her home. She does not look kindly on me...excuse me...those who test her abilities of a simple activity of walking. But I do have to go and visit my forehand, and he also lives in the neighborhood, so it should be convenient for me to see if Miss. Hale is alright"_ I said sullenly. Of course Miss. Hale would not approve of someone watching over her, let alone an "ungentlemanly" master. But still, I know I could not rest unless I knew she was safe. I was decided. I would take the road through the cemetery, perhaps find myself able to take a moments rest in a quiet place.

_"Capital Thornton! Excellent! Well if you are met with indifference from Margaret..."_ he paused, looking at me intently, implying in a way that he was not fully unaware of Thornton and Margaret's situation, _"then perhaps tell her father and I invited you to dinner. She would not wish to disappoint us wise men" _he chuckled. With that, he shook my hand, and headed toward Crampton, with more a little skip in his step.

_"Clever old man!" _I thought, smiling a little. Moving with a fast step, I walked briskly towards the cemetery. But what would Margaret say? What would I say? I should probably come up with a story of some such. Maybe I could just bump into her, accidentally of course, explain I was just visiting my forehand. Would she believe it? Or would she see through my lies? I didn't care. This gave me an opportunity to see her again. I missed her so. I missed her voice, her bright blue-green eyes, her beautiful light brown curls, her reactions. I missed her smile, though it was never directed at me, but I still missed it. I yearned for her to look in my direction again. This would be an opportunity to see her again, even if I prompted negative reactions from her. I could possibly redeem some form of pleasantry from her if I apologized for missing my meeting with her father. Surely she would not begrudge me for apologizing.

Walking through the cemetery already, I arrested my steps. I inhaled such a gust of air that I thought I should surely choke! My heart's desire, _Margaret, _was not more than six feet in front of me, walking so unsteady and fast. Something was wrong, but would she welcome my approach? Of course, I know I would be the last person she would want to see. But once her hand flew up to her bent face, to wipe off the free falling tears, I stop thinking and just moved hastily towards her. I ached to bring some comfort to her.

I walked so speedily, I nearly ran into her. She jumped a little at the barrier my body created from her and the upcoming road.

Suddenly looking up, she nearly yelped, _"Mr. Thornton! What are you doing here?"_ A look of complete surprise, and confusion clouding her face.

_"Miss. Hale...I was...I was only on my way to visit my forehand, and was taking this route,"_ feigning innocence.

She stared at me intently, comprehending what information I had given her. I kept focus on her eyes, never looking away, for fear of breaking this precious connection she allowed me, even just for this once instance. It felt like hours before she looked away, wiping away the buildup of tears from her rosy cheeks. She quickly adjusted her vision to the dirt ground, wringing her gloved hands together nervously in front of her. I looked intently for a moment, before I could prevent myself from what happened next.

I put my hands on hers, feeling the heat radiate through them. She stopped moving them, a gasp of breath escaping her lips. I held her hands firmly, yet gently, smoothing my thumbs on the tops of her marvelously small and frail hands. _"Margaret...what has happened?,"_ I whispered, bending my head so close to her, feeling the top of her cloak on my chin.

She squeezed my hands once the words left my mouth. She seemed to contemplate mere seconds before she made any action. Suddenly, she leaned forward, placing her delicate forehead onto my chest, letting out whispered sobs, continuously keeping her firm hold on my hands. I kissed the top her cloak, and whispered soft reassurances that everything would work out alright.

For what seemed like an eternity, she told me what had happened.

_"Bessie...Bessie is gone. And I have just come from the Higgins'...Nicolas was...and Mary...and now she is gone"_ she cried.

I dropped her hands instantly, wrapping my arms around her, crushing her to my chest with a mighty strength that I did not know I possessed. Surprised, she took a breath, and then wrapped her small arms around my torso, squeezing herself to me, all the while sobbing quietly. I let my right hand rub comforting circles into her back, while my left hand kept a hold of her around her waist, never letting go.

_"I'm so sorry for your loss. I know that Bessie was the best of friends to you. She was certainly a prize at Marlborough Mills,"_ I calmly spoke, trying to comfort her.

_"Yes, she was. Thank you Mr. Thornton."_

_"Margaret...of course."_

I risked a kiss to her forehead, placing it ever so softly, but holding it for more than the normal time. She pulled me closer to her, hugging me as though she would never let go. How sad that I must find some pleasure in this sadness. For I was ecstatic about just being able to hold her, let alone place a kiss upon her being. But I was angry at myself for doing it at a time like this. Coming to terms with my thoughts, I told myself I didn't care if it was the wrong place, or the wrong time to do this, to hold her, and comfort her. It would be now, because now she would allow me. She needed me as much as I needed her. I would wait until she let go of her squeeze, hoping desperately that she would never let go.

Finally the moment came, where she did eventually interrupt our union.

_"Mr. Thornton, it draws at a later hour. My father will worry. I should be on my way home,"_ she spoke in a lowered voice, never releasing her hold on me.

_"Yes, Miss. Hale. It is getting late...Perhaps, you might allow me to accompany you to your home? To ensure you reach your home safely? I would be forever grateful..."_ I said wistfully, hoping that she would find more comfort in my presence, even if we would have to maintain a sense of propriety again when we entered the city.

_"But what about your forehand? Don't you have an appointment with him? I would feel terrible if I were the one to keep-"_

_"Not at all, Miss. Hale. For I did not have an appointment with my forehand, but hopeful of a chance meeting that I had traveled for. No need to feel terrible for something that was unconfirmed. I would find more pleasure in walking with you some more...If, of course, you are entertained with that idea?"_ I said hoping.

She gazed at me for a moment, before a small smile formed.

_"I would be entertained with that idea, Mr. Thornton. Thank you. I know Father would love to see you again. Perhaps, dinner will be at the end of your journey,"_ she blushed. She quietly stated this with a smile on her face, although very small.

_"Well, that would be a welcoming pot of gold,"_ along with many other things, I said to myself.

_"Good,"_ she simply stated, blushing a little, before releasing her hold on me. Her arms crossed in front of her, waiting for me to make a motion.

Realizing my blunder, I offered her my arm. She, taking it quickly, we both began our journey back to Crampton, both having many different thoughts, but one constant thought. We were together.

**Hope you liked it. I know it's nothing major, but I think it's something to help formulate what might happen next. Any ideas of more coincidental meetings? :D I have a few more in my head, but if you have any suggestions, I will always be open for those! :D I hope to give you guys another chapter soon, possibly by next week. Enjoy and see you all next week! :D **


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello Everyone. Firstly, I would like to deeply and regrettably apologize for being an awful author and keeping this story unfinished for so many months. Life gets in the way all the time, and it has unfortunately done just that. Secondly, I would like to thank everyone who has favorited/commented. Thank you greatly for sticking with me, when I do not deserve it. I just wanted to say that I will try and finish this story quickly, and hopefully not be a lard-ass and finish this one in a decent amount of time. Also, I would like to say that I will be changing some things and moments, which happen in the book/miniseries, but will be different in this story. Thank you. **

Thorton's POV

As we walked through the graveyard and then later reaching the city, it was as if the moment of comfort abandoned us and instead a descended silence clouded over us, forgetting all of our bold actions previously taken, and making the atmosphere completely brand new, and shy. We, neither of us, had spoken a word since leaving the graveyard. It was not unease, but neither was it comfortable. So much, I wanted to say, and from the way her eyes would peek up at me from underneath her lashes, I could tell she wished to speak too. Her lips would purse and then unpurse, with contemplation. I could see her mind working a mile a minute, trying to figure out what needed to be said, what should be said. However, she had not even thrown me a glance since stepping out of the graveyard. What is she thinking? I needed her to look up at me to give me some clue of how I should act.

Should I begin? Or should I let her? Should I begin with a hurry and just let it out? Tell her that my true wishes and feelings are unchanged? That they will never change? Tell her they have neither been distinguished or been squashed? Or should I start slow? Should I take a different route and make her much more comfortable with me? With us? With our brand new and shy atmosphere? Or perhaps I should get the basics out of the way? Work into what my heart and soul are screaming for her to hear?

"_Mr. Thornton, I have been entirely rude, and I'm very sorry for that,"_ whispered Margaret, her eyes focused on the road ahead of us.

"_Miss. Hale, what do you mean?"_ asked myself, defensively. Why is she blaming herself for being rude when it is I that has been rude, that has taken advantage of her, when she is lamenting her friend's death? Is she speaking of what happened in the graveyard? How has she been rude when I have said not a word, to either defend or apologize for my bold actions? But even thinking this myself, I cannot say that I can apologize for my actions, because they were actions made by the sentiments of my heart, and not the rationality of my brain.

"_I have yet to ask you about how your mother is doing and how the Watsons' are since the wedding?"_ said she, shyly.

Oh Margaret! _"Miss Hale, it seems that you are right. That is entirely and abominably rude of you to not ask. Mother is her controlled and preserving self. Fanny and Watson are well. I know if Fanny were to hear that her grand and rich wedding were not commented or asked about by every person in Milton, even you, she would fix you with a proper and of course, polite death stare" _I said with a mischievous glint in my eye and a smirk. Please look up at me Margaret! Please!

Her head instantly turned to my direction, her eyes flashed to my face, with a bemused and hurt look about them. Finally! _"Now it seems as I am the one needing to apologize Miss Hale. I see that you are hurt and a bit confused by my speech. I am sorry. I was only teasing. I needed to see your face, your eyes, for you have had them focused so long on the road ahead of us that I thought you would never glance my way. Please accept my apologies, Miss Hale," _I said with a tight grin, reassuring her that I only wished to comfort and to jest her. Perhaps I should not tease. I have never really done so before, but something with Margaret made me do it without even thinking. I just wanted to see her face, be solaced by her eyes and her attention on me, instead of the dingy road. But maybe that was a bad idea for although I wished for her attention to be on me solely, it was now and I felt a certain unease. Her eyes were searching, looking for something, some insight into myself, that I thought maybe I did not want her to find, just yet. Her bemused expression still held, but now, I could see some form of playfulness in her eyes. Oh her eyes! So beautiful and breathtakingly enchanting, even with the red-rimmed evidence of her weeping. I could get lost in those eyes for an infinity.

"_Well, Mr. Thornton, I believe that an apology could be necessary. However, I cannot allow you to give one, because you have not hurt me but in fact have now shown me another side of yourself, and I cannot be hurt by this new insight,"_ she said this a soft smile.

Oh Thornton! Can she not stop surprising you? _"And what new insight have you discovered about my person?,"_ I said with an equally playful, if shy, disposition.

"_Only that you have the ability to tease, which in itself, completely scatters my brain and surprises me in trying to understand you,"_ said she with a shy smile, yet bold look.

Oh Margaret! _"Oh Miss Hale, I can assure you that I am a surprising creature, with surprising actions, behaviors, words, feelings…that will continue to scatter your brain, over and over again, if you so wish it."_ I cannot stop my grin from forming even while saying it with the most seriousness in my voice, only some playfulness peeking out.

Blushing Margaret!_ "Well I hope Mr. Thornton to continue to be in company of a surprising creature, such as yourself, and continue to be equally surprised in everything you do. Scattering my brain seems to be a new found hobby of yours in which you find enjoyment, by the apparent smile attached to your debonair face"_ she said with such a bold look, eyes beaming into mine, that I nearly collapsed in joy after it was uttered! "Debonair face"! Dear Lord! She thinks me handsome!

My grin growing into a full blown and unashamed teeth-baring smile. Her shy smile turning into a beautifully bold one now, making her eyes crinkle with amusement. Oh she is so very beautiful! I could not help myself, _"Oh Margaret, you are breathtaking when you smile,"_ I said as her blush became more prominent, and she shifting her gaze to the road ahead of us again. However, I did not mind. I could still see her broad smile, her teeth biting her lower lip trying to hide it. Focusing on the road ahead of us, I could see now that Crampton was but twelve feet from us. Oh Thornton, school your features. We would not want Bell or even Hale to see what has passed between us.

Slowly rising with the steps, Margaret paused beside me before the door. Her face expressed a nervousness that was not there just a moment ago. Suddenly, with a released breath, she spoke quietly;

"_Mr. Thornton, I want to thank you for your comfort…in the graveyard. And your distractions walking home. I really do wish to apologize for being rude, though not for the reasons I stated before. I wish to apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable. I behaved improper by my actions in the graveyard and I am-" _

"_Miss Hale, please, do not think of it. It gave me great relief to be the one to comfort you in your time of need. Please think nothing of it. I only wished to be the friend you needed," _and so much more,_ "and it was an awe moment that I was able to help you,"_ I said with a soft smile, my affections and love pouring through my voice alone. My eyes spoke of the same towards her.

Margaret, looking into my eyes at that moment, softly smiled, and nodded her head in understanding. Her fingers, again, were nervously moving, and even if I wanted to, I could not help my own hands gently grasping them, my thumbs rotating circles on the tops of hers. I gave them a soft squeeze, and said _"Now, Miss Hale, I believe that I was promised a pot of gold in the form of food. Is that offer still on the table, so to speak?"_ a small smirk sneaking out.

Finally! Margaret laughed outright, her bold look returning, and said with a teasing voice, _"Of course, Mr. Thornton. I am not finished having my brains scattered by a surprising creature such as yourself. Of course, this dinner means that I have very high expectations that you will continue to surprise me. If you do not, then I'm afraid I will send Dixon on you, with a mixing spoon and you will be the one surprised in what will happen next,"_ said she with such a spark in her eyes.

I could not help myself. I laughed, then just stared for a moment, looking at the beauty before me, and knocked on the door. Mr Hale answered, not waiting for a greeting, spoke in his usual tone;

"_Ah, Thornton! Oh and Margaret, my dear! How wonderful. Thank you Thornton for bringing Margaret home, for she went out so very late, and of course I warned her against doing. Bell said that he had seen you, and of course, suggested we feed you, both in mind and body," _chuckled Mr. Hale,_ "for the service done. How about dinner? And then some reading? Bell and I were just discussing Stendhal*, and the absolute brilliance of that Frenchman!" _chuckled Hale, turning towards a shadowed Bell standing in the hallway, looking at us with a slight smile and a peculiar expression. "_Oh do come in you two, for it is getting chilly…," _said the sly Bell.

"_Marie-Henri Beyle (23 January 1783 – 23 March 1842), better known by his pen name Stendhal, was a 19th-century French writer. Known for his acute analysis of his characters' psychology" (Wilkipedia)._

_"Even a very small degree of hope is enough to cause the birth of love." - Stendhal_


	4. Chapter 4

**Two chapters in one night! Oh my! What has come over me? I think it is the only way I know how to apologize. I think I am going to continue through Thornton's POV. I know that in the beginning I stated that it would be Margaret's but I am finding much more inspiration in writing through Thornton's. I suppose if any of you are against this, than just let me know, and I can squeeze in some Margaret's POV. Also, I told you all that I would changing some things. Well here it starts. Firstly, the dinner at the Thornton's has not happened yet and secondly, Mrs. Hale is much worse than she was in the novel/miniseries at this time. Anywho, if you guys have any constructive comments, I am open for those. My writing is not the best, and believe me; I can do well with having some commentary on how to better it. **

A week had past, and thinking back on the dinner I had with Margaret after our coincidental meeting, I look on the coming weeks with more hopefulness and pleasure. Dinner, what a wonderful commonality that can lead to such gaieties. I never knew that dinner could be the most important or my favorite meal of the day! However, anything involving Margaret is starting to become my favorite and most important.

Finally, after a weeklong separation, I will see her tonight! Of course, I have seen her at least twice since the dinner, but tonight it will be more merriment that it has previously.

The first time I saw her, it had been two days since the dinner. I was walking towards Crampton, on my way for a session with Mr. Hale. She and I literally bumped into each other on the street, in front of the post office. I cannot forget the astonishment of her facial features, the way her hands grasped my biceps with such strength, the slow but brilliant smile that crept on her face, or the fact that she let me hold her, my arms tight around her waist, for a full thirty-seconds, before we both came to our senses. We could not speak openly for Mr. Hale came out of the post office soon after, and we all headed back to Crampton together.

The second time was just two days ago. I was at the mill, overseeing the floor, making sure the workers were not wasting their time. With the aftermath of the strike, we had loads and loads of shipments that needed completion. The backorder was a vast amount, and my stress and anxiety made me more of a forceful and a bit of an authoritarian master than I was before. Slowly, thinking of these backorders, the defiance of my workers, the risk of livelihood in which they placed themselves and me in, my anger was creeping in over my being. Looking at the men, women, and children, who abandoned this mill and me for some ill-conceived notion of righteous revolution that would prevail and in the end, be a win for them. No, it would simply not do. Not with the traditional mindset of the other mill-owners. I knew, from growing up and working hard for the title of mill owner, that this mindset, both of the workers and the owners, would not change for the better nor would there be better results for either of them, especially the workers. I knew and understood both worlds. These thoughts running through my mind, my anger quickly built by the notification that I had a guest waiting for me in my office. I had no time to see a guest. Did they not know that I was a very busy man? That I did not care for their purpose, whatever it was. However, with a shrewd look from my forehand, he only ever bestowed this courageous and a bit annoying look for very important reasons, I sighed and went to see about my guest. Whoever thought that only a master could be shrewd or forceful thought wrong, especially when confronted by one of Blakeley's looks.

Entering, I was expecting to see either two types of men that had been coming in by the dozen it seemed. Either a man of great means, traveling up from London, hearing about investing in mills for a means of entertainment, or a man who wished to collect money or shipment, that was past due. However, I was not expecting to see _my Margaret_, all beauty and sunshine.

I arrested my step, caught in the doorway, neither moving nor speaking because of want and shock at seeing her, alone, with the rare sunshine passing through the windows, glinting over her massive brown curls. She turned herself at my entrance and smiled a shy smile, but held my astonished face with her bold gaze. Her eyes roamed my face, taking in every line, every movement, until she realized what she was doing, and instantly blushed and looked down, her teeth worrying her bottom lip, trying to trap her broadening grin. I mimicked her, after taking all of her in, shyly looked down, and finally, after an age, stepped in my office, and slowly shut the door with an audible click. I moved towards my desk, my step reaching the chair, and with a wave of my hand, motioned for her to be seated. Both of us now seated, her eyes found mine, but neither of us spoke.

"_Miss Hale, how are you? I hope that everything is well. I hope I will see you later in the week for the annual dinner?"_ I say with as much polite reserve I had. I just wanted to gather her in my arms, and stare into her eyes for an eternity. However, I could not do that and so I thought conventionalities must persist. Oh please tell me she is coming. Please tell me that she did not come here to rescind the invitation in person. I need to see more of her!

"_I am as well as I can be Mr. Thornton, as is my family. I have only come because I am in need of something, but I was told your mother was not here, so I thought, being the ever surprising and helpful man, you could be of service to me,"_ said she with polite manner. Only at the end was there some spirit in her speech, delivered in a saucy way.

I looked up, seeing her slightly grin, but her eyes contained sadness. Why was she sad? _"Of course, Miss Hale. You know my love for you…,"_ here I paused a moment, letting it sink in, before clarifying, if only for her sake, by the sudden and surprised gaze she bestowed on me, _"…for you to continue to be surprised by anything I do,"_ I said with a poignant look and a soft smile. Whoever thought anything about John Thornton to be soft could now be shocked, thought I. However, I had been realizing that I wanted to be and was softer around Margaret. She had made me softer, and I was starting to like it.

"_Yes, well that surprise continues to occur, Mr. Thornton,"_ she said as she directed her gaze at the floor.

Needing to rectify what I had just done, _"So Miss Hale, how may I help you? You seem to be distracted from our newly formed friendly banter. What is the matter? You seem much more despondent than I had previously beheld. I know that your friend's death is greatly felt, and I am indeed so very sorry that she is no longer here. I hope you know-"_

"_No Mr. Thornton, it is not that, well not entirely. I do feel Bessie's death still, for she was my great friend and I miss her so much. No, now, it is my worry for my mother. She has been ill recently, and this is the reason she was not at dinner last week. I am here because I was wondering if you knew of another doctor or someone who could see her and perhaps give a second opinion,"_ she said with tears on the brim of escaping.

When she finally looked up at me, first one, and then another tear overflowed down her reddened cheeks and I quickly got out of my chair, rounded the desk, and sat in the chair next to her. As much as I wanted to forget propriety and wrap her in my arms, I did not, for fear of what she would say or do. We had formed a brand new and shy thing, and I did not want to jeopardize that for anything. Seeing my movements, she slowly turned herself towards me in the abiding chair. She silently wept, her head down, shoulders slightly shaking. It took everything in my being to not grasp her with my whole body, so instead, I held one of her small, frail, clammy and cold hands in both of mine, and slowly my thumb drew circles.

Finally, after taking a long breath, and wiping the remaining tears from her face, she looked up at me. Her eyes showed her sadness, her worry, and most of all, her embarrassment. No, she should not feel embarrassed about expressing herself to me.

"_Miss Hale, I know that no words can be of comfort in this time. However, I will do everything in my power to help you. I do know of several doctors that can provide a second opinion. I hope that you receive better results from them. I understand if you would be unable to attend dinner this Friday and would hate to put you in a troubled position. If you do choose not to come, then it is understandable and neither my mother nor I would hold a grudge. I would not ask a selfish thing like that of you. However, could you please do one thing for me?"_

"_Of course, Mr. Thornton, anything,"_ she said breathy from her previous weeping.

"_Please always come to me if you ever need anything, no matter what it is. And I do mean anything, a person to talk to, a shoulder to cry on…anything,"_ I said as I gave her a soft smile, pleading in my eyes.

Finally, I receive her full beautiful and breathtaking smile, crinkle eyes, and a look that speaks a thousand words. _"Yes, Mr. Thornton. I can do that."_

I smile in return, and meeting her bold gaze, raise her encased hand to my lips and tenderly place kisses upon it.

Her intake of breath and her prominent blush makes me emboldened, and I carefully run the knuckles of my left hand down her face, from her temple to her chin, repeating the motion several times. She slowly closes her eyes at this repeated motion and breathes a sigh of contentment, pushing her face towards my hand.

After several long minutes, she opens her eyes with such a look that nearly knocks me off my seat. I cannot hold back my gasp at such a devoted and caring and dare I say, loving, look pointed at me. As if occupying the same mind, we both start to lean towards the other, our intent clear. Suddenly, hard footsteps and then a pounding at the door halt our movements, and make us both gaze at anything other than each other.

"_Master! Master! You are needed on the floor, sir!"_

I grunt harshly, why is this moment ruined! Just a few more precious seconds, and I would have had the physical answer to my unspoken question. Sighing, I slowly rise and assist Margaret up.

"_Yes, Blakeley, on my way!,"_ I nearly yell, all my pent up anger at the ruination of my moment with Margaret.

I look down at Margaret, finding her gaze upon me. Her lips twitch slightly, as if finding amusement in the situation. After a moment, I mirror her look, and we both quietly laugh, taking in the ridiculousness of the moment that was just interrupted.

I make my way to my desk and scratch down the names of the other doctors. I come back around my desk and stand directly in front of Margaret. Handing her the paper silently, she slips it in her pocket and looks up at me again.

"_Well Miss Hale, I will walk you to the gate,"_ I say as I hold out my arm for her to take.

She takes it instantly with a thank you and we make our way to the yard. So much still left unsaid, and yet so much has been said, with looks, with almost occurrences.

As we reach the gate, she stops and slowly looks up at me, again taking in my face. She takes in every line, every movement, every expression, until finally she reaches my eyes, where there she finds the love and desire I have for her fully expressed. This time though, she does not blush nor look away but continues to hold my gaze until a slow smile appears, awakening both her and I to our understanding, to our comfort of finding home in each other. She curtseys with a goodbye.

But I arrest her step; I cannot simply let her go like that. I slowly bring her gloved hand to my mouth, and kiss it ever so gently, with a _"Good day, Margaret,"_ in a husky and hushed voice. Blushing, she gasps and then smiles at me, squeezing my hand a little before I finally release it.

And out she walks into the dingy streets while I stare after her figure until it disappears around a corner. I hope that she comes to dinner, please come to dinner. I have a desperate need to see her again, to hold her hand again, and to be near her.

**So I know that I sort of got carried away by the second meeting, but I just couldn't help myself. It kind of just poured out. So next chapter will be a continuance, if you will, including the dinner. And I'm definitely going to make it more "romancy". I just hated how in the miniseries that stupid fool took Thornton away from Margaret just when they were getting friendlier. So expect that change. Please review, and tell me what's bad/good. I would greatly appreciate your comments. I'm going to try and post more this weekend, and hopefully finish this story by Friday of next week. **


	5. Apologies

Hello Everyone,

So after much thought and lots of encouragement I've decided to keep the story up. Although, it will still be unfinished. I know I keep flip-flopping and I really don't mean to, but this is what's happening now. :) And I promise to try and continue this story. Thanks for all your wonderful comments and encouragement. Have a wonderful day!

All my best,

Dev


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